Stirred: A Love Story (22 page)

Right when he was starting to get a little nervous, she said, barely louder than a whisper, “I don’t even remember the fantasy.”

He kissed her lightly. “Bottom-drawer material?” he asked, barely touching her warm skin.

Her eyes lit up and as she nodded, she slid on top of him and kissed him, surrounding him again with everything that came with being loved by Sage Jeffries. Just when he thought he’d seen all of her, she opened another space and invited him in.

Chapter Twenty

A
s soon as the first sip of coffee hit his bloodstream a couple of weeks later, Garrett wondered about the weather. Last night, the forecast called for partly cloudy, but the sky looked thick like his shaving soap and almost as white. He moved to the cabinet and Jack sat up at attention, hoping for food.

He was tired, which was normal, and restless, which was not. He had no idea how he’d let this happen. How she’d gotten in, and how instead of working his way toward excuses and the inevitable let down when the relationship ended, he couldn’t stop thinking about her—and not only at night. She was on his mind at work, he made extra stops by The Yard to see what music was playing before they opened and what kind of mood she was in. What had started as a bargain made in a lustful haze of fantasy had now turned to a look of knowing in her eyes. It was as if she could see into him now and that, he decided on the ride into the Rye family meeting, was the sole reason for the restlessness. He’d meant what he said when he told her he wasn’t afraid of commitment. He wasn’t afraid, he simply didn’t think about it. Anything other than what he’d done his whole life, which was to keep the farm running, was uncomfortable.

For a moment last night, after he’d left her drowsy and curled up on her couch after a movie, he tried to convince himself it had been a mistake to cross the line, a mistake to make love to her. God that phrase “made love” could be added to the list of touchy-feely words Garrett tried to avoid. But, there was no denying that’s what had happened after Logan’s wedding and a few times since. They were making love, although when she’d pulled his hair in the shower a few nights ago, that was a whole lot more about pure and simple need. Whatever the label, while his restless brain now worried about the weather and the million things he needed done by noon, his heart sat warm and satisfied in his chest. If loving her created chaos within the rest of him, his heart didn’t care. Where his heart was concerned, she was everything even if his mind scrambled for how “family” included room for anyone else. Tossing Jack a treat, Garrett grabbed his keys and his phone and set out for Libby’s to meet, discuss, and most likely argue by the time he finished his pancakes.

“I signed Libby and me up for bridge class at the community center. It starts next week, do you want to join us?”

“I do not,” Garrett said, walking with his father out of the diner following their hour-long meeting.

“Sage is teaching.”

“Is she? Well, I’m sure it’ll be a great class. Why are you going with Libby? None of your male friends get excited about bridge?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Yeah, I know you see her at the diner, but I didn’t think. . .”

His dad was suddenly uncomfortable. Garrett hadn’t meant to make fun of bridge. Maybe his dad wanted the company. Maybe that’s why he’d resorted to asking the woman who owned the diner. He barely knew her. Shit, he really didn’t want to have to learn to play bridge.

“Do you want me to go with you so you don’t have to take Libby?”

His father shook his head, and Garrett wondered by the way he’d stopped meeting his eyes if he’d hurt his feelings. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be. . . fun. You can tell Libby she’s off the hook.”

“Off the hook? She’s totally into me.” He climbed into his truck.

Garrett smiled. “Oh, is that so? I didn’t realize you were in the market.”

“I’m not,” his father said, tipping his hat and driving away.

The man got a little loopier every day. Sage was teaching bridge. Was there anything the woman didn’t do?

Sage was in her first warrior pose on her deck by 5 a.m. the next morning. The sun was barely beginning to warm the sky so she could only see her body from the glow of the house lights. It didn't matter; she knew her set, could feel her way through it. On the exhale, she rolled her arms back at the shoulders and held the position, her eyes to the waning night sky. She loved early morning, the quiet and the newness of the day. This early in the morning, decisions for the day hadn’t been made yet, and she imagined everyone on her block waking with their own set of worries, goals. There was something comforting about traveling the planet with other people. She didn't need to know them all, but it was good they were there.

He’d be awake, she thought, rolling her shoulders back the other way. He’d probably been for almost an hour before her. She couldn’t begin to wonder what filled his mind first thing in the morning, but as hard as she tried to be sensible, she longed to be near him in the early sunrise hours. Sage had thought a lot about being in the “now” over the last few days, but now was filled with him touching her and loving her whether he knew it or not yet. Her now was the feel of his body, the rumble of his laughter, and that look he gave her as if he were learning something new about her every day. Her now was warm and delicious, but despite the comfort of it, she wasn’t sure how it all fit into her tomorrow.

Placing both hands on the spongy black mat, Sage lowered her head into downward dog. The tension and questions hiding in her spine spilled off her back and she told herself to be conscious, to live her life because that was all she was given. There was no way to deny things were changing, but she still had her anchors in case she was heading into a storm.

After a set that left her drinking water in her kitchen on wobbly legs, Sage showered and dressed in jeans and an olive-green sweater. She had the day off today and once she picked up her dry cleaning and ran by the grocery store, she would be at Bao on Beverly Boulevard by eleven o’clock for her very first dim sum. It had been on her calendar for a couple of weeks, and she was expecting to love it. The pictures looked incredible, and the bartender there touted a cucumber martini that was “the best in LA.” She highly doubted that, but she was intrigued. Her college roommate had gone out for dim sum every Sunday. Sage had never gone with her or with her sisters when they went into the city, because she was busy studying and then too busy trying to excel at a job she hated.

Since Brad, Sage enjoyed doing things on her own that were all hers. She didn’t invite others along because she needed time “to be,” as the book had said. She didn’t want anyone’s opinion on certain things before she had a chance to form her own. Her mother said this self-exploration was “lonely” and “kind of selfish,” but Sage didn’t see a problem with being a little selfish every now and then. If there was anything good to come of her time dating Brad, it was that she now understood the importance of keeping some things to one’s self.

Walking out to her car, Sage wondered if Garrett liked dim sum. She felt certain he’d tried it, which was strange. Why did she project things onto other people and assume they’d done more exciting things than she had? Sage sighed and threw her dry cleaning into her trunk. She wondered if self-discovery ever ended. Was there a point when she would truly know herself? Sometimes after reading or watching something an expert suggested she integrate to be a “complete person,” Sage wished she was like a grocery store turkey with one of those plastic things that popped up when she was cooked, finished.

As if he’d known she’d been thinking about him and was considering having dim sum with him instead of by herself, her phone vibrated with a text.

Crazy day today, but how about dinner?

Sage remembered her mother telling her that a boy should give at least two days’ notice when he asked a girl out. Then and now, Sage thought that “rule” was ancient and weird, but as she glanced at her phone, she wondered if she was slipping. She hadn’t seen Garrett for two days and had already started wanting him in her life—in all aspects, even the times that were meant for herself. This was no longer a fantasy. It wasn’t something she could turn on or off in her mind. This was real, and Sage wasn’t sure she’d done enough work on herself to be this close, this in love. She texted him back:

Sorry, can’t. See you soon.

Chapter Twenty-One

“S
o here’s what I was thinking after I showered and wondered if I should call you or spend another night alone,” Garrett said, letting himself into her entryway after Sage opened the door a little after six the following evening. “Maybe now that I’ve given it up, that you’ve used my body several times, you’re done with me.”

She smiled, closed the door, and inhaled the smell of soap and clean cotton.

“We haven’t seen each other and I know part of that is me, but I feel like part of it’s you too. How was dim sum?”

Sage froze, not that she had anything to hide, but now that they were together, it did seem strange she had not invited him. “Kenna?”

“She didn’t mean to, but we were talking about Chinese food and she mentioned you were trying your first dim sum.”

“I—”

He held up his hand. “So, before those independent parts of us screw this up, I thought I’d drop by with Jack and food.”

She looked around, not seeing Jack or food.

Garrett opened the front door to Jack sitting politely with a large paper bag in his mouth. “I left him outside in case you were busy again or had a hot date or—”

She took the food from Jack, set it on the table that no longer had the infamous flowers, and locked her front door. Pulling his jacket off and throwing it toward the rack, she kissed him fast and urgent as if all her fears, all her crap, could somehow be fixed if she kept touching him.

“I’m trying to keep a handle on things, but I’m slipping and you don’t want. . . I honestly have no idea what you want. Sometimes I think we’re even, but then I’m not sure we ever can be because of the way we started. Oh Christ, I sound nuts and I know you only came over for dinner, but I won't survive if I fall and you’re not with me. Some other guy, sure, maybe, but not with you. And I’m not even positive you know how to love. I mean it’s not like you’ve had relationships, right? Shoot, I’m sorry. Let’s eat.”

“Hold on, you already said you loved me, so now you’re backing out?” He smiled and kissed her gently. “I know how to love,” he said, and she almost believed him.

“Oh really? Have you ever been in love?”

“I’m not sure. I care about people, but I don’t normally get involved.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m busy doing. . . things. You know how some people never buy a house or own a car?”

Sage nodded, hoping this was going somewhere productive, but probably not.

“It’s like that. I spend my time doing other stuff.”

“Don’t you think love is a little different than a car?”

He shrugged and kissed her again. They separated, and she brought the bag into the kitchen.

“Sure, yes. That was what came off the top of my head. When you asked me if I’ve ever been in love, I’m trying to say that I’ve never gotten around to it.”

Sage wasn’t sure how to respond as she opened the cartons of Chinese and pulled out some napkins. This wasn’t a typical “I don’t do relationships” response. He’d never gotten around to it?

“You’re thirty-four,” she said, taking a seat on the couch and giving Jack one of those fried noodles they always sent in bulk.

Garrett nodded and sipped the beer she handed him, as if they were discussing a current event.

“Do you want to be with someone? Clearly you’re into sex.”

He smiled and Sage instantly replayed every touch, the way he closed his eyes right before they fell together as if he was collapsing into a warm pool of water.

“Sage, what we are doing is more than sex. I. . . care about you.”

The brief hesitation spoke volumes, and Sage was sorry she’d asked.

“But that’s not what we’re talking about. You asked me if I’ve been in love, and that’s different. I have some recent experiences with love considering both my brother and sister are stupid from it. Love, you know, after the honeymoon, seems to be all about living a life together. It’s work. I can’t say I’ve done that or that I’ve even thought about it. I plant, harvest, sell, and repeat. My life is about that farm.”